Chapter 29 #3
“Do you like it?” Luke asks, sounding somewhat unsure of himself, and I can see the uncertainty in his eyes, like he doesn’t know if this is too much. As if anything he could do would ever be too much.
“I love it.” I squeeze his hand. “It’s perfect.”
Luke visibly relaxes, and suddenly, I wonder if he’s a little nervous, too. It’s humbling to think it might not be only me after all.
The sound of music catches my attention.
I see that Luke has his phone plugged into the speaker on my dresser, playing through a preset playlist on Spotify.
The unmistakable twang of a country ballad hits my ear, the kind of slow and intimate love song that could only help set the mood, and I can’t help but laugh to hear it.
Luke definitely wouldn’t have chosen that for himself, meaning he put it on specifically for me.
It’s hard to ignore the burst of warmth in my chest, the sentiment more endearing than I’d expected.
“You’d sacrifice your good taste in music for little ol’ me?” I tease, gesturing to the speaker, and Luke grins.
“You get a hall pass tonight,” he says. “And if anyone ever asks, I’ll deny it.”
“Noted.” I chuckle and grab Luke’s hand, pulling him closer to me.
He immediately entwines his fingers in mine, his other hand moving down to my waist, the touch sending butterflies through my gut.
His blue eyes look almost gray in the soft light, drawing me in with a magnetism that’s hard to resist. His lips twist up into that well-known half-smile as he searches my face, apparently happy about what he sees there.
My heart races. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being the object of his undivided attention.
Then, as the music trills softly in the background, we start to sway, slow and steady.
Luke takes the lead, which feels unusual to me at first, but I quickly settle into it as we twist across the bedroom floor, staring into each other's eyes as if the universe starts and ends with us, the edges of the world beyond blurring in a haze of glittering light. It’s sweet and corny at the same time, but I can feel how my chest expands, carving out a place for this moment where it will live with me forever.
I’m thrown back into my childhood, where I watched my dad twirl my mom around our house exactly like this.
I almost forgot how much I loved it, or how that’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself growing up—the obvious kind of love they shared in their lingering stares and desperate touches.
My throat goes tight as I realize I might have finally found it.
Vaguely, I recall telling Luke about that memory a few weeks ago, and I can only wonder if he retained it, or if this is just an uncanny coincidence, but either way, I’m happy.
Time seems to slow down, and all my anxiety fades to the back of my mind until I nearly forget what I could have been so worried about going into this night.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, the music switching from song to song as the swoony lyrics try to compare the vast and universal feeling of love to some measurable, tangible substance.
It’s all dancing in the summer rain, sipping on good whiskey, or kissing under the moonlight, each song hitting all the right spots with my romantic heart, and Luke seems as caught up in the moment as I am, his face full of unmistakable affection.
But when he twirls me, my two left feet choose to make an appearance, and I stumble as gracelessly as a newborn calf.
I can’t help but laugh as Luke catches me and twirls me back into his arms, my back now against his chest. He chuckles in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine, and wraps his arms around me, dropping his chin on my shoulder.
His soft sigh travels straight through my core.
“I could stay like this forever,” he murmurs, his voice no more than a whisper.
He nuzzles his head against mine, and I close my eyes, allowing the pleasant sensation to move across my skin, feeling the way it prickles with ecstasy.
There’s no denying the physical effect Luke has on me when a simple touch like this is enough to break me open.
As the feeling settles, I open my eyes again, coming to a decision.
Turning around to face him, I meet his gaze with a look that I hope conveys it.
Luke seems to understand, his eyes searching my face hungrily.
He leans down to kiss me, and I lose myself to his soft lips and the way my skin burns everywhere he touches me.
I wonder how long I can take it before I go up in flames.
He starts to push me back to the bed, and I follow the instruction willingly.
He presses his fingertips to my chest until I go down, my back against the pillows, and then he takes his place atop my lap, his hands tangled in my hair.
When he kisses me again, it’s a little less guarded, a little more passionate, but still obvious that he’s holding himself back.
Contrary to the hot and heavy movements I’ve come to expect from him, he takes his time now, meticulously taking me apart bit by bit as if he knows that this is exactly what I need to unwind.
And as my heart thrums a staccato rhythm in my chest and my brain goes fuzzy with every tender caress, I can safely say it’s working.
Luke kisses my jaw and scrapes long fingers through my beard, dragging his teeth along my throat at a slow and torturous pace that has me shivering.
He lets his hand drift under my shirt, tracing his fingers over my stomach, the touch sending warmth through my belly.
Then, after slowly relieving me of my shirt, he moves his mouth down my chest. He traces his hands all the way down my bare skin until he’s palming me over my jeans, finding me half-hard and twitching.
A shuddering gasp escapes my lips, and Luke smiles at the reaction.
I push my hands underneath Luke’s shirt, hiking it up to lift it over his head, desperate to feel his skin on mine.
But when it reaches the point where he needs to raise his arms to help me liberate him from the offending fabric, he lets out a gasp and pained hiss, sitting up sharply like I’ve just burned him.
I instantly freeze. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Luke says quickly, shaking his head with a forced smile, but the way he rolls his shoulder tells me it’s definitely not nothing.
I push myself up, hands at his waist, and he lets me gently pull the shirt up and off his body, careful to avoid the tender area.
As soon as his chest is bare, I see what caused his pain, and my eyes widen in shock.
There’s a dark spot on his right shoulder, made to look far worse in this dim lighting, I’m sure. It’s unmistakably a massive bruise.
“What happened?” I ask, my brows furrowing, my fingers finding their way to the space below the purpled skin. He winces slightly, and I snap my hand away, wondering how far that sore spot goes. How long has he had it?
“It’s nothing,” Luke says again quickly, almost dismissively, but his brow pinches as he glances down at his shoulder. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and ran into an open cupboard. That’s all.”
“What, at breakneck speed?” I scoff.
“I bruise easily.” Luke shrugs.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah, sure.” He sighs, and I can sense irritation creeping at the edges of his tone, though I can’t imagine why. “But I’ll be fine. Now, stop deflecting. We’re not done here.”
Then, before I can even attempt to argue, he pushes me back down until I’m lying against the pillows again, and he presses his lips to mine with a new, raw intensity that takes my breath away.
He grinds his hips back at the same time, making every thought fly out of my head with the motion.
Luke works on my pants next, clawing them off my body with a reckless sort of energy that has my heart racing.
Vaguely, I’m aware he’s trying to distract me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t working.
As soon as he’s got me completely naked, I’m like putty in his hands, molded however he wants, and brought to life by his touch.
And when he removes the rest of his clothes, he presses his gorgeous body against mine with an urgency that matches my own, rocking his hips back and forth with our hard lengths pressed between us.
His fingers in my hair send tingles through the back of my head.
No one else has ever had the same effect, and it might be one of my favorite things Luke can do.
I drag my hands up his back, his arms, his neck, and his stomach, making sure to avoid his injured shoulder with caution. His skin is so soft in my calloused hands, and the way Luke shudders at my touch makes me think he likes the feel of the contrast.
But he doesn’t let us stay in that position for long.
Not when he’s got something else in mind.
Pushing himself up, he regards me with a hazy smile, his hair mussed and wild from my hungry fingers.
I watch as he leans over to the nightstand, and I notice for the first time that he’s got a little bottle of lube and condoms already set out from god knows where.
Did he have those with him the whole time? Shit, he really came here prepared.
Luke grabs both and brings them closer, then cocks his head to the side curiously, his sharp eyes calculating as he regards me. He takes my hand and pulls me up, switching positions so that he’s lying on his back, and I settle between his open legs.
“This might feel more natural for you.” Luke smiles, brushing his hand through my hair.
“Is this natural for you?” I can’t help but frown.
“Oh, my god. Yes, Ethan.” He suddenly chokes, his eyes crinkling with genuine laughter. “Gay people can have missionary sex just like straight people. You’re not special.”
“Don’t be a dick,” I say, pinching his side until he squeaks, squirming beneath me. But I smirk, feeling a surprising lack of embarrassment for the wisecrack at my ignorance. “How the fuck was I supposed to know?”